


Red velveteen and pearls

by OhWowAltMal



Category: High tides rp
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhWowAltMal/pseuds/OhWowAltMal
Summary: Forgive





	Red velveteen and pearls

Pearl’s slipped easily and smooth through fingers, laced in a necklace meant for bare and sharp collarbones. The golden clasp that clicked around the back of her neck, beneath the red curls waiting to be brushed and braided and made beautiful by his hands, hooked into place and he drew back to raise her chin in a delicate touch. She smiled at him and he smiled blindly back, fixing her dress strap so it wasn’t twisted over the fair skin of her shoulder – the red velveteen gown held no collar but simple straps leading to the soft cloth, draped over her breasts in a loose, shawl like manner, joining at her waist by a tight golden belt before falling off into off into loose translucent waves. It was made well. He would know – he made it.The pearl’s were an adornment unfitting for the dress but, as custom for the Burdan family, she wore them anyway, boldly paired with pearl earrings that were….gross. Hideous. But maybe he could hide them in her curls.

“its not red, is it?” She asked as he tucked strands behind her ears, framing her face to figure out what best to weave her hair into. “You know red isnt my colour.”

“Of course its not red. But how would you know, anyway? You suit the color fine.” He lied with a good humoured smirk that she returned, her hands moving to give a fleeting and teasing tug on his shirt.

“I know when you’re lying to me. Your hands shake.”

“Its just the nerves.” He muttered in response, moving to lead her gently over to the couch poof where she could sit and could knee behind her. “I’m that good of a friend, I’m nervous on your behalf.”

Her laughter was light and airy and rang like bells. “Oh, sure, Matthias. I’ll just go around the ball telling everyone how my lover made me such a wonderful blue ballgown, shall I? Because that’ll be sure to impress the king.”

Matt flinched at use of the word and tugged at her hair gently. “Ears.”

She simply waved his concern aside. “They all know. I don’t care. I wont let them touch you.”

He kept silent after that and chewed at his lip as he worked with her braids and curls, weaving and sweeping them into arcs held up by pins and what he could confidently lie as magic. Her hair was soft in his fingers and much, much nicer than his own, despite her protests whenever she ran her own hands through or tried to plait it. They both had the same length but hers glowed a fiery, furious red while his was a shiny black, curled and frayed around the edges and cut off just to where his pecs began. They joked that they were the total opposite of one another, and in a way, they were; her fair white and freckled skin looked like porcelain compared to his honeyed dark tan, Cuban and Spanish roots making him look like her afternoon shadow. She was the daughter of a rich merchant who was hand in hand with the king, and he was her slave. Handmaiden. Whatever. He was short and twigged, while she stood at an elegant five seven and had a infuriatingly good figure. Matthias wasn’t blind.

“Alyna.” He tucked in a strand to complete one plait and murmured her name to get her attention. She murmured a quiet sound of recognition and opened her glazed blue eyes, shifting them over to try and find him in the useless mirror opposite her. “you…know what this ball is for, right?”

The mood between them quieted and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “He'll be nice. Father promised me that.”

“if you marry into his family they’ll ship you over to his kingdom.” He didn’t want to talk about this, the conversation stung with barbs of future wounds, but it needed to be done. “they wont take me with you. Your father, hes already told me.”

He jumped as she suddenly slammed her fist into the couch material next to her, dirty frown breaking her delicate features and usually rosebudded, perfect mouth curled jnto a scowl. “I’m not letting that happen, Matty. I don’t care. I’m not letting you go.”

It was a comforting thought and an even more comforting lie, but he could see the tears wavering in her eyes and he quickly moved to dampen the subject. “I know. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And be safe, aye? Tell me if his dick is bigger than mine.”

Alyna dissolved into a snort and she palmed her face in mock disappointment, heaving a grand sigh and turning to look at him with arched brows. “you haven’t exactly set a high bar, Matt.”

“you know what? I’ve changed my mind. I don't think I want to go with you anymore.”

The snort evolved into a cackled laugh and she slapped his shoulder. “oh shut up.”

He finished her hair with the last pin pushed into place and he helped her stand, smoothing out any wrinkles or bent fabric in her dress and patting down loose strands of hair. She really was….she really was beautiful, and didn’t know it. Wouldn’t ever. Matt cupped her smooth cheeks and watched as she pressed into his hands with a soft smile, fingers grazing over her lips and upturned nose, so much prettier then his, so perfect. Even at eighteen she held herself with more elegance and confidence than queens of entire continents, and hed met a few of those – tiny, insecure little things they were, but not his Alyna. Not his Alyna. She was going to rule the world and she knew it.

He just wished they could do it hand in hand.

“I love you.” His words were a quiet kiss on the edge of her lips and a gentle caress along her jawline, knowing how the sun dipped over the horizon and cast the golden deadline on their legs and the carpeted floor of her room. All balls were at the last mention of daylight and at this rate, shed arrive well into the moons rise. He could already hear the music from the ballroom drifting in through her open windows and it gave a soft veil to the room. Alyna moved and took his hand in hers, linking their fingers and resting the other on his shoulder. He looked to her in confused surprise.

“Dance with me. Just one. Before I go.”

He didn’t know how to dance.

“Okay.”

She moved them around in a small circle, and he focused his feet on following her footsteps, trying not to trip on her dress or her feet before with a giggle she told him how to move. One step to the side, two back, right first. Okay. Not too bad. The music that drifted in was out of time with their dancing but they didn’t care, both of them absolutely terrible with wide smiles and sweaty hands and touching foreheads, stumbling their way through some makeshift dance around alone in her room. Sometimes they tripped. That was okay.

Everything was okay with her. It wouldn’t always be. But he had red velveteen and Pearls to run through his fingers and wear with the same pride that she walked with whenever she held his hand, and he had curls just like hers to braid and remember how it felt to have hands run through it, and he had sunsets and ballrooms to remember what it was like to dance with somebody who only ever wanted to dance with you.


End file.
